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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29685405">The Boys of Wolf Creek</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/pseuds/ravenbringslight'>ravenbringslight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Boys In Love, Car Accidents, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Pining, Sibling Incest, Summer, this is set in 2001 because why not</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:34:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29685405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/pseuds/ravenbringslight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer after high school. Loki's going to college in the fall. Thor isn't. Thor wants to kiss his brother. Loki isn't as opposed to that as Thor might think.</p><p>The boys grapple with their changing lives and relationship while navigating the troubled waters of grief in their mother's untimely passing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki/Thor (Marvel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Boys of Summer</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I didn't write for awhile and then I decided that the cure for that was to write just the most self-indulgent thing humanly possible.</p><p>I got the vague premise (two boys, one going to college and one staying behind) from an artsy movie called Last Summer, which is really less of a film in the traditional sense and more of an extended vibe.</p><p>Thanks to the eggs, who have listened to me scream about this nonstop since the idea started germinating in my head.</p><p>//</p><p> </p><p>You do not have to be good.<br/>You do not have to walk on your knees<br/>for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.<br/>You only have to let the soft animal of your body<br/>love what it loves.<br/>Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.<br/>Meanwhile the world goes on.<br/>-Mary Oliver, Wild Geese</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>1.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam closed the front door of the high school behind him and tested the handle to make sure the lock caught. He was always the last to leave over summer term. Most people were eager to leave when classes ended for the day at 11:45 am, students and teachers both, but Sam preferred to pack his lunch and stay for a little while. Eating in his office in the air conditioned silence with nobody’s problems but his own was his one true break during the day. Afterwards, all he had to do was sweep through the school for stragglers and then lock up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The school sat in the midst of sun-baked athletic fields, surrounded by trees. Further on down the road it turned residential, but Sam almost never had a reason to go that way, so sometimes it felt like the school was just a grassy island in the woods. The heavy June air wrapped around him as he walked towards the parking lot. Within seconds, he started to sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A teenage boy sat sprawled on the parking lot curb. Gangly in the way that a lot of kids were, but already growing out of it. His red backpack slumped next to his feet and he was worrying at a piece of sole that was peeling off his sneaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Thor,” Sam said, putting his hands in his pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor Borson startled, then looked up, squinting against the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey Mr. Wilson,” Thor said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waiting for a ride?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Loki’s gonna be here any minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mind if I wait with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam wanted to go home, but he would never leave a student potentially stranded. And though he would never say it out loud to anyone, Thor was actually his favorite student. Sam had never met a brighter, nicer kid, or one who had been kicked around so much by shitty circumstances. Sam could at least make sure he got home okay today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor sounded surprised. “Yeah, alright.” He grabbed his backpack and moved it out of the way and Sam sat on the curb next to him. The concrete was warm through his slacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s English going?” Sam asked. Thor should have graduated last month with his brother, but he had flunked English. The school wouldn’t give him his diploma unless he passed this summer course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shrugged and picked at his shoe again, then looked out towards the road. In another kid the silence might have been surly, but in Thor it was contemplative. It was always like that. He made you feel like your question was so important to him that he wanted to think about it long enough to give you a proper answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Thor said. “I understand the stuff we’re reading, it’s just...” He scrubbed his face. “I’m dog tired all the time. With work, and...and my dad…and the court stuff...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” Sam said. He did. Thor’s mom had died last year in a car accident. Hit by a drunk driver. It was all the local gossip could talk about for months afterwards. The same accident had left Thor’s dad out of work on disability, and Thor had picked up the slack by taking all the jobs he could find. He’d been in and out of Sam’s counseling chair too many times to count over the last year. It was always the same story—too much work, not enough time for school. Not enough time to grieve, Sam thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hum of cicadas filled the silence between them. It was the sound of summer, woven into the air of Wolf Creek. Part of the fabric of life out here in the sticks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Privately, Sam couldn’t help but feel angry at Thor’s family. At his dad and his brother Loki, both of whom seemed to feel like it was reasonable to expect an eighteen-year-old kid to keep the household afloat himself. He hoped to hell there was some reason for it that Thor just hadn’t told him. He’d tried once to prod Loki in the direction of opening up about the situation. It had been a struggle to get Loki to come see him in the first place—he was the kind of kid who took “going it alone” to an art form—but as soon as Loki realized what Sam was getting at he’d clammed up completely, insulted Sam with a creativity that was frankly impressive, and left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now Loki was supposed to be picking Thor up from school but had left him here to rot in the parking lot for at least half an hour, like he was an afterthought. It didn’t sit right. But Sam knew better than to let his private misgivings about his students’ family lives show, and he tried to keep the conversation easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got any plans for the summer?” Sam said. “Other than this,” he added with a smile, throwing his thumb back over his shoulder to point at the school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor smiled and rubbed at the back of his head, mussing his shaggy hair. “Work. Sleep. Hang out with Loki. He’s fixing to go to college in the fall.” He said the last with such a tone of affection and pride that Sam felt momentarily guilty for having bad thoughts about Loki.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any plans to join him?” Sam said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll visit, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. I mean <i>join</i> him. You’re a smart kid. College would be good for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor fidgeted. “No, sir.” Then, apologetically, “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of that apology stuff,” Sam said. “I just want to see you succeed, Thor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing good at the nursery,” Thor said. “I like working with plants. Volstagg says I could make supervisor in the fall. That’s something. And I was thinking of trying out for the firehouse after I turn nineteen. I don’t mind staying here, Mr. Wilson.” Thor’s gaze went to the road again, distant. “Loki needs to get out, though. This place ain’t no good for him. He’s better than this, you know? He never fit in here. Not like I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam struggled with himself for a moment. He wanted to tell Thor that no one was too good for anywhere, whatever that meant (and if Loki was making Thor feel...<i>inferior</i>...then Sam wanted to have several words with him too). But Sam also couldn’t in good conscience tell Thor that staying in Wolf Creek, Tennessee, population 5,423, was a life trajectory that would lead towards anything but stagnation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam was saved from answering by the appearance of a dusty red pickup truck turning onto the road. Thor’s sagging shoulders straightened. He stood quickly, his whole manner brightening like he was throwing off some kind of weight, and waved. It made Sam’s heart hurt for some reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truck rumbled into the parking lot and pulled up alongside them. The passenger side window rolled down and Loki leaned over to talk out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry I’m late,” Loki said. “Dad made me pick him up from the VA and I kept telling him I had to come get you but he was talking to Heimdall and he kept going <i>one more minute, one more minute</i> and wouldn’t let me leave. Oh, hi Mr. Wilson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Loki,” Sam said. “Glad to see you taking care of this brother of yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki smirked. “Yeah, he needs it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Thor said, hauling the truck door open. “Thanks for waiting with me, Mr. Wilson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam smiled. “Any time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truck stayed idling for a moment and Sam stood watching through the still-open window, his hands in his pockets. Two heads leaned towards each other, one bright and one dark, talking in low voices. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—I brought you a sandwich but I think Dad sat on it</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—Is there anything to drink?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—Yeah I got some sweet tea </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—Ugh thank you it’s so hot out there I was fixing to die</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—Sorry sorry I got here as fast as I could</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—I know it’s ok it ain’t your fault</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki hit the gas and Sam straightened and waved. Thor stuck his hand out the window and yelled bye, his mouth already full of food. Sam didn’t move until the truck got to the end of the road, the right blinker flashing lazily for a few seconds before it turned, taking the boys towards wherever they were going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cicada song closed in around Sam, making him feel surrounded and lonely at the same time. Maybe he’d been wrong about a couple of things. His heart still hurt for Thor, but the dull uncharitable anger that Sam had been feeling towards Loki had broken somewhere in the last few minutes. That boy had lost his mom too. And you couldn’t fake the kind of joy that Thor had displayed when Loki showed up, or the straightforward kind of care that drove a teenage boy to think of something like packing a lunch for anyone other than himself. Sam needed to afford Loki the same grace that he wanted Loki to afford Thor. It was just so much easier to <i>like</i> Thor than it was to like his brother. Sam had to shake his head at himself, because Thor was right—Loki didn’t fit in here, for some reason. Even Sam, who was paid to make students feel liked, had a hard time with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><i>Keep taking care of each other</i>, Sam wanted to tell them. <i>Lord knows the world ain’t gonna go easy on you just because it’s already gone hard once.</i>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally crossed the empty parking lot to his little two-door sedan and threw his shoulder bag into the passenger seat. It was Tuesday. Steve had off Tuesdays. Sam hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, him or Bucky. He should invite them over. Making fun of Barnes would shake him out of the maudlin mood he’d gotten himself in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled out of the parking lot onto the road and turned left.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>2.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor lay on his back in his bed, shirtless, the rickety old ceiling fan doing nothing to dispel the afternoon heat. If you set it too high it rocked like it was going to come straight out of the ceiling, so they never put it above medium. It was barely better than someone blowing on you. Loki was propped up on his elbows next to Thor. He was equally shirtless, his shoulderblades winged out like a bird’s, looking over Thor’s essay questions. He chewed on a pencil and tapped Thor’s notebook with it by turns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This answer is half right,” Loki said. “But I had Miss Carter and I know she wants you to say something specifically about the leitmotif here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor was only half listening. His shoulders were sore from hauling hundreds of pounds of dirt at the nursery yesterday (and he could swear the exercise was making them bigger, he’d caught Loki eyeing them up more than once and it made his stomach hot thinking about it). The bed was so soft and the afternoon was so heavy that it felt like it was weighing his eyelids down, begging him to sleep. And he just didn’t care that much about his homework. If his eyes were going to be open, he’d rather use them to look at his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sunlight slanted in through the old lace curtains and painted Loki’s pale skin in shades of gold, softening the sharp angles of his face and giving his normally black hair auburn highlights. It was wavy in the humidity and long enough to curl around Loki’s ears now. Thor thought he looked like some cherub-haired boy from an old painting, the kind where the eyes looked decades older than the face. Thor couldn’t help but reach up and wrap a curl around his finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you even paying attention?” Loki said, hooking the curl away from him and tucking it behind his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Thor said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor had a secret. It lived in a corner of his heart he’d found half a decade ago—a hidden garden, dark and strange and beautiful—and in the years since he’d tended it carefully and built a wall around it to keep the flowers from escaping. In the wall he put a gate. On the gate, a lock. For the lock, a key. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flowers and the wall and the gate and the lock and the key were all named <i>Loki</i>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor’s secret was that right now, as always, he wanted to cup his hand around Loki’s neck and pull him down and kiss him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow Thor had come to the realization that he was in love with his brother young enough that he’d never felt guilt about it. It was just the way he was. Loki was his brother and Thor loved him and if other people wanted to put limits on the way he was allowed to love, that was their problem, not his. The only thing stopping Thor from acting on it was, ironically, his love for Loki. He didn’t want to hurt him or make his life harder. Loki had had enough of that already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to say something about the leitmotif,” Loki said. His curl had escaped its ear prison. Thor made a noncommittal noise and wrapped Loki’s hair around his finger again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is what I have enough to pass?” Thor said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good enough for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki sounded annoyed. “Thor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It don’t matter if I pass with a C or an A,” Thor said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you tried just a little harder, you could get out of here too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Loki said it, it didn’t even sound like he was from Wolf Creek. His voice lately was clipped and urgent, like he was purposefully trying to lose his accent but wasn’t quite successful yet. He sounded like Odin. Odin grew up in Cincinnati and came to his hybrid accent from the other direction, the south rubbing off on his bland midwest newscaster’s voice. Loki’s new voice made Thor sad. Thor’s drawl still spooled from his mouth in wide loops, like a ribbon curling through the air. Like their mama’s voice. He didn’t want Loki to leave it behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I ain’t going nowhere,” Thor said. “It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki huffed. “You’re so...<i>frustrating</i>, ugh.” He shoved Thor’s shoulder. Thor caught his hand, but Loki struggled against him for a minute, enough to clear the sleep from Thor’s head and make him sit up. Wrenching his hand back, Loki spat, “I wish you’d just <i>try</i>.” He shoved Thor again and Thor grunted at the impact, and then their arms and legs were tangling together as they rolled around Thor’s bed, tussling. It was a double, bigger than Loki’s bed, but only because Thor was so much bigger than Loki. Still too small for two grown boys to wrestle on. All of Thor’s papers and books thudded to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor was stronger, but Loki didn’t fight fair. He pulled hair and threw elbows with abandon. One cracked Thor across the nose and made him see stars for a second. With a growl, he managed to roll on top of Loki and pin him to the bed by sitting on him. His arm was across Loki’s chest up high by his neck and he pushed hard enough that Loki’s throat worked to get air before Thor eased off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor was suddenly aware of how harshly he was breathing—how harshly they were both breathing. Loki’s skinny chest rising and falling rapidly. Both of them sweating. Skin on skin. He thought about a picture he’d found in one of Loki’s artsy photography books, of men physically struggling with words superimposed on it: <i>You construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men</i>. He’d stared at it so many times he thought he could draw it from memory. Was this really the only way they were allowed to touch each other? In anger, or something that pretended to be? Just take that photo and cross out “other men” and write in “your brother” and lock it inside Thor’s garden fortress with the flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I try,” Thor said. “I try real damn hard. Just not at the same things you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Loki said roughly. “I know. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes connected and for a long shaky-armed moment where Thor felt his face softening and his heart climbing into his throat, he thought that maybe Loki wanted to kiss him too. The way he was looking up at Thor with his eyes so big and his lips parted, the way his gaze flicked to Thor’s mouth and back up, the way he was still breathing like a trapped animal—the way Thor’s head was drooping down, and the way that Loki’s face was, maybe, nudging just the littlest bit towards him—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Thor was rolling himself off of Loki to flop back onto the bed and the moment was gone. <i>Of course he’s not gonna kiss you</i>, Thor told himself. <i>Maybe you really are stupid.</i></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got work in an hour,” Thor said, not looking at his brother. “Think I’m gonna sleep as long as I can first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Loki sigh. “I’ll still look at the rest of your essay questions if you want. Is your nose okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It barely hurt now but Thor knew he might have a headache later. “Yeah, it’s alright. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki’s weight lifted off the mattress and he moved to his own bed on the other side of the room. <i>You can stay here</i>, Thor wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he set the alarm on his watch and rolled over and looked at Loki through his eyelashes until he fell asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>3.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki’s diary was a nondescript spiral notebook that he only wrote in sporadically, when the noise in his head got loud enough to need an escape valve. He’d started it his freshman year of high school. Only now, in the summer after his senior year, was he anywhere near the end of it. An entry in green sparkle gel pen:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>June 5, 2001. I think he almost kissed me today. I think this isn’t the first time he almost kissed me. I think I’m imagining things that aren’t there. I think it says something about me that I would imagine this, of all things. I think it’s hard to breathe. I think he would give me his breath if I asked for it, and then die of asphyxiation, and I would hate myself for the rest of my life. I think August is centuries away and will be here tomorrow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The cicadas won’t let me fucking sleep.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the photograph that Thor is referencing is by Barbara Kruger and can be found <a href="https://art21.org/read/barbara-kruger-resisting-reductivism-breaking-the-bubble/">here</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a surprise pov and a surprise cameo!</p><p>There's also a lovely comic that Rai made for the first scene of the chapter. I embedded it, and you can also find it at Rai's twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/sendaraven/status/1369467281839849475?s=20">here</a>. ❤</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>4.</b><br/>
<i>”Put your chin down,” Frigga said.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Loki did, his gaze slipping down to the worn linoleum of the kitchen floor, and her scissors slid cold against the skin of his neck. The gentle snick of the blades was soothing. His mama was a hairdresser. She rented a chair at Eileen’s salon in town, but Loki and Thor’s hair she did at home right here in the kitchen, and Odin too. Loki had never had his hair cut by anyone else. He didn’t want to. Frigga never gave him any grief when he wanted to try something different. He could bring her any magazine picture or celebrity photo he’d printed off the internet at school, and she would just “hmm” and then get to work. Odin had had a few things to say more than once about Loki’s choices, but Frigga always shut him up with, “Hair grows. Nothing is permanent. Let him have some fun.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”What are you dreaming about today, baby?” Frigga said. She always asked Loki that. Always called him her dreamer.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”Right now I’m dreaming about supper,” Loki said. He picked one of his snipped curls up off his lap. Dark black. Nothing like Thor or Frigga or even Odin, all of them fair-haired. Sometimes it bothered him. Most times it didn’t. It was good to feel chosen. Good to have a reason he felt like he didn’t fit in, sometimes. He spread the little lock of hair out over his bare knee. “Hoping it’s your burgers.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Frigga laughed. “A humble dream today.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”Not humble. Just realistic.”</i>
</p><p>A curl of hair fell on Loki’s lap and he picked it up.</p><p>“Hold still,” Thor complained. “I can’t do this when you’re all wiggly.”</p><p>The drone of the cicadas filtered in through the kitchen window. Loki had read that the big broods only came out every seventeen years. He wondered what they dreamed about down in the dirt for that long. He wondered what it felt like to know nothing but soil and darkness and the damp press of earth for seventeen years, and then burst out into another plane of existence that was terrifyingly the opposite—airy and light and free.</p><p>Was that what leaving Wolf Creek would feel like?</p><p>“Don’t go any shorter than my chin,” Loki said.</p><p>“Mmhm.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Thor brushed some stray hairs off the back of Loki’s neck, his hands warm and dry. His touch made Loki’s stomach tighten nervously. Everything Thor did made him feel nervous lately and he didn’t know why. The nerves took the form of a hot, achy restlessness, like something was about to happen, like something <i>needed</i> to happen, only Loki didn’t know what. It made him want to pull Thor closer and push him away at the same time.</p><p>When Loki got out of sorts like this, which unfortunately wasn’t uncommon, the only person he could or would talk to was Thor—but since Thor was the source of his grief this time he couldn’t very well bring it up with him. It made him miss his mama even more than usual.</p><p>The scissors moved and Loki clapped his hands to his head before they could cut.</p><p>“I said don’t go past my chin!”</p><p>“I’m just making this part shorter so you can see,” Thor said.</p><p> The hot bright flare of annoyance was welcome. “That’s exactly the opposite of how you grow hair out. You have to trim the bottom until the top catches up with it. If you cut the top you’re defeating the entire purpose.”</p><p>“Just let me do this little piece right here—”</p><p>“If you touch one piece of hair from the top of my head I swear to god I’ll take those scissors and gut you.”</p><p>“Boys,” Odin said. </p><p>The old man had hobbled into the kitchen at some point carrying a beer can full of cigarette butts. He dropped it in the trash and fixed his eye on them; he’d lost the other one in the accident and had refused a glass one in favor of an eyepatch. When Loki was being generous, he thought Odin looked like a pirate. He hadn’t been feeling generous a lot, lately. </p><p>“Don’t think you’re too old for me to whoop you,” Odin said. There was no heat in it at the moment, but the old man's temper had always been short and it had only been getting shorter.</p><p>“We ain’t fighting,” Thor said.</p><p>“Honest,” Loki said. He even meant it, despite the fact that five seconds ago he’d been thinking of wrestling the scissors out of Thor’s hands and hacking off any hank of blond hair he could get his hands on. But pulling together to form a front against a common opponent was second nature to both of them. They did it instantly and without thought. They’d always been like that, no matter how bad they’d been going at each other a second beforehand.</p><p>Odin grunted. He fished a beer out of the fridge and slammed it on the counter, then fingered a cigarette from the package always in his breast pocket and lit it. </p><p>Loki always thought that the first moment of lighting a cigarette smelled good, like fire and tobacco, dry and spicy. He liked the way it made your hands smell, too—it made him think of being little, when getting picked up by Odin meant love and safety. What a shame that an instant of pleasure was all it gave. After that first flare of the lighter, it was just money down the drain and the stale reek of old smoke and the wet hacking cough that wracked Odin every night.</p><p>“Not inside, Dad,” Thor said. Tone aggrieved but gentle. Loki was glad Thor said something first, because if Loki had opened his mouth gentleness would be nowhere to be found, and then they'd probably really be in for the whooping Odin had promised.</p><p>Odin grumbled something and grabbed his beer and shuffled out the kitchen door onto the porch. His legs had been another casualty of the accident. Shattered so bad that there was never any chance they were going to heal properly. He wasn’t using his walker today; that meant either it was a good day or he was being a stubborn old jackass who was going to get himself stuck somewhere and hope that one of his kids was there to bail him out. He let the screen door slam shut behind him.</p><p>Loki let out a long breath and stood, brushing hair off his lap. He turned to Thor.</p><p>“Your turn,” Loki said.</p><p>Thor’s hand went to his hair. “I don’t know. I think I changed my mind.”</p><p>Loki looked at his brother for a moment. Thor’s wheat-golden hair had gotten long, the back nearly sweeping his shoulders and the front curling up around his chin. A year’s worth of growth, untouched since the accident. It should look stupid, but Thor managed to pull it off the way he pulled everything else off, by being a human ray of sunshine. He just looked handsome. Like Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall or something. And he looked sad.</p><p>Loki’s belly tightened nervously again.</p><p>“Fine,” Loki said. And then, quieter, “It’s alright. I was thinking about her too.”</p><p>Thor smiled at that, a sweet sad expression that made Loki want to hug him. His stomach stopped him from doing it. When had hugging become something to be nervous about?</p><p>“Yeah,” Thor said. “I reckon you were.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>5.</b><br/>
<i>Thor Borson</i><br/>
<i>Miss Carter, English</i><br/>
<i>June 8, 2001</i>
</p><p>
  <i><b>Topic Sentence:</b> The person I admire the most is my brother.</i>
</p><p>
  <i><b>Supporting idea #1:</b> He has big dreams and goals and isn’t afraid to pursue them.</i><br/>
<i>Justifications: 1) he’s going to college in the fall, 2) he had to apply to a lot of schools, 3) he had to apply for a lot of scholarships, 4) he’s going to live in a big city by himself</i>
</p><p>
  <i><b>Supporting idea #2:</b> He perseveres when things gets hard.</i><br/>
<i>Justifications: 1) he graduated valedictorian and did all that college application stuff by himself after our mom passed away</i>
</p><p>
  <i><b>Supporting idea #3:</b> He’s caring.</i><br/>
<i>Justifications: 1) he drives me to school and work, 2) he cooks supper for me and our dad most nights, 3) he helps me with my homework, 4) he stands up to people for me even when he doesn’t need to, 5) he’s always there for me when I’m feeling bad (I’ve been feeling bad a lot)</i>
</p><p>“You ready to go?” Loki said. He was standing in the bedroom doorway, keys in hand.</p><p>“Yeah, just a sec,” Thor said, slamming his notebook shut. He knew Loki couldn’t possibly have made out his handwriting from across the room, but he was embarrassed anyway. Loki would make fun of him for the rest of his life if he read any of that. He was always calling things “sentimental” like it was a bad word. Trying to hide his fluster, Thor busied himself collecting his work shirt and shoes and wallet.</p><p>Loki gestured at Thor’s homework with his chin when Thor joined him at the door. “Need me to look over that later?”</p><p>“Nah, I’m good,” Thor said. “Let’s get going before we’re late.”</p><p> </p><p><strong>6.</strong><br/>
The Vanirs had lived in Wolf Creek for as long as anyone could remember. From before the town even had a name, probably. Njord Vanir built a house right in town when he got married, mostly with his own two hands, and raised his two kids there. Twins. A boy and a girl. Frey and Frigga.</p><p>Frigga had gone back to the land that birthed her, same as her parents had done. Frey lived in that house now. He’d never married. Never had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, either; he’d never seen the appeal. Sometimes he thought he might want to experience what everyone else was always talking about—go on a date, neck on the couch, wake up to someone else’s breathing—but then the ghosts of his parents and sister crowded in and he thought the house was full enough, actually.</p><p>Frigga’s boys though, they were always welcome.</p><p>“Uncle Frey!” </p><p>Thor was smiling when Frey opened the door, and they pulled each other into a black-slapping hug. Loki was there too, but he’d never been a hugger. He gave Frey a tight-lipped smile and never uncrossed his arms.</p><p>“Come on in, boys,” Frey said. “Mr. Nelson’s already here.”</p><p>They followed each other to the living room, where Foggy Nelson was stationed in Frey’s most comfortable armchair with papers spread out on the coffee table in front of him. The man was one of the only two lawyers within fifty miles, and Frey was grateful that Foggy had taken the time to come to them instead of the other way around. He wished he was having the boys over for a better reason.</p><p>Foggy nodded a greeting at them. “Thor, Loki. Nice to see you both again.”</p><p>Thor shook his hand and Loki gave him the same tight-lipped smile he’d given Frey.</p><p>“Volstagg’s Nursery,” Foggy said, reading the name on Thor’s shirt. “That’s where you work, right? Coming from work or going to it?”</p><p>“Going, sir. Right after we’re done here.”</p><p>“Then I won’t keep you long,” Foggy said. “Sit everyone, please. You’re making me nervous standing like that. How is this whole family so tall?” He chuckled at his own joke.</p><p>Foggy rifled through his papers as they arranged themselves. Frey took the other armchair. Thor and Loki took the couch. They somehow managed to squash each other despite it being a three-seater, elbowing and jostling until they came to rest halfway on the same cushion in some kind of unspoken truce. They’d been a close pair since they were babies, and Frey was glad they had managed to stick together through this year of fallout. </p><p>“I know this process has been frustrating,” Foggy said. “Wrongful death suits aren’t easy to prosecute even when the case is cut and dry, which unfortunately this one hasn’t been. We’re getting near the home stretch, though. I can feel it. Matt is working out the settlement details now, and I think you’re going to be happy with the amount.” He pushed two piles of papers towards the boys. “Thor, you can start with signing this stack, Loki, you have this one, then you guys can switch. I’ll notarize them myself when you’re done.”</p><p>Odin had been angry at Frey for suggesting he sue the auto insurance company for money. He said that it was cheapening Frigga’s memory. Frey disagreed. Odin had two kids to take care of by himself now and no income other than a disability check. An insurance payout would give them room to breathe until they got back on their feet, maybe pay for college for one or both boys.</p><p>Thor and Loki agreed with Frey. With his help they had pursued the suit themselves as the minor dependents of the deceased. (Sometimes phrasing things in lawyerese made Frey feel distant enough to hurt less. Sometimes.)</p><p>They’d been at it for almost a year. Frey’s presence was really only for moral support and supplying neutral territory for the boys to meet with Foggy; Odin wouldn’t let the lawyer into the Borson house. Frey could only speculate as to why. Maybe it was grief. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was just selfishness. Frey had little sympathy no matter the reason. </p><p>The accident had been a year ago next month. Frigga and Odin had spent the Saturday at a well-attended barbecue at Heimdall’s, eating and laughing. Drinking. Thor and Loki had been somewhere else, doing whatever it was that teenagers got up to on weekends. Frey had been at the barbecue for a couple of hours in the afternoon. Something about the combination of people and beer and sun had given him a headache, though, and he’d gone home early. He wished he remembered more of those hours. He remembered Frigga going up on tiptoes to kiss his forehead when he told her he was leaving, telling him to take some tylenol and drink some water and to call her tomorrow. Remembered Odin raising his beer at him in farewell, as friendly as the two of them ever got.</p><p>Heimdall said that Frigga and Odin left at approximately 10:30 pm, Odin cheerfully drunk. Heimdall didn’t see who got into the driver’s seat. By 10:47, Frey’s sister was dead.</p><p>The Borsons' car was struck by an oncoming vehicle driven by Al Grim, local mechanic and notorious drunk. He was going twice the speed limit and his blood alcohol content was well over the legal limit. Frey would hold Al and his sick joke of a name at fault until the day Frey himself died. But Al insisted that it was the Borsons’ car that hit <em>him</em>. Said that Odin was driving, and that Odin was drunker than Al was (which he was, admittedly; testing at the hospital proved it). Odin, of course, denied any fault. He said that Frigga was driving and that she hadn’t drunk a drop all night. But Frigga and Odin had both been ejected from the car (not wearing their seat belts, which was something that Frey had harped at Frigga about for <em>years</em>), and there was no proof either way. It was all he-said he-said. </p><p>Frey had seen the pictures from the scene. He’d had to identify Frigga’s body. He didn’t care who had been driving, only that his beautiful sister was dead and these two pathetic old men weren’t.</p><p>Even though Frey hadn’t been there when it happened, he dreamed about the accident all the time. Usually Frigga was driving, alreadying looking like she had at the county morgue. She would look right at him and smile with her hideous corpse’s grin. Then the other car would plow into her while Frey watched, a devastating subduction of bone and metal that tore right through the fabric of the dream and left him sitting up in bed, gasping. Those nights, he would turn his light on and think of the feel of Frigga’s lips on his forehead and stare at a photo of her face until it replaced the one from his dream and he could close his eyes without screaming.</p><p>Someone had to pay for this. Al Grim's insurance company was as good a choice as any.</p><p>“I’ll give your uncle a call next week,” Foggy was saying, shaking Frey out of his thoughts. “Hopefully we’ll know more by then.”</p><p>“Thanks for all your help, sir,” Thor said. “I wish we could pay you something now.”</p><p>Foggy waved his hand. “Please. Once we get a settlement, then we can talk about money.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Nelson,” Loki said. He looked drawn, like signing the papers had taken something out of him. Frey reached over and patted his knee, and Loki gave him a wan smile. “Thank you too,” Loki said to Frey.</p><p>“It’s the least I can do,” Frey said.</p><p>“Sorry we can’t stay longer,” Thor said. “My shift starts in fifteen minutes, I gotta go.”</p><p>“You boys take care,” Frey said. “And drive safe.” It was how they always said goodbye to each other now.</p><p>Loki’s voice was grim. “I always do.”</p><p>Frey walked them to the front door and watched them climb into the old red pickup. He waited for it to rumble down the driveway and out onto the road, and then he went back to the living room.</p><p>“Mind if I notarize these right now?” Foggy said. He was stamping and signing the papers the boys had just completed. “I have a long drive home and I’d rather save late-night Foggy the work.”</p><p>“Take your time,” Frey said. “You should eat supper before you make that drive. Let me take you out somewhere. It’s the least I can do.”</p><p>“I’d appreciate that. I don’t mind coming here, though. You know that, right? You got some good kids.”</p><p>“My sister’s got the good kids,” Frey said, smiling. “I’m just borrowing them.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Algrim is the name of the dark elf who kills Frigga in TDW. don't worry, I'm rolling my eyes at me too</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>7.</strong><br/>
The truck bumped down the dirt road, joggling Loki’s bones. Thor was driving. He was already in his swimming trunks and nothing else, all tanned skin and lean muscles and a wide open grin that he kept directing at the rear view mirror. Loki didn’t know where to put his eyes for some reason, so he hung his elbow out the window and focused on the green of the trees and the dapple of sunlight on the road. It was hot and muggy, the air thick as soup. The underlayer of hair at the back of Loki’s neck was already soaked with sweat.</p><p>“Faster!” Sif yelled from the bed of the truck.</p><p>“Not faster!” Darcy complained. “My ass is bruised already.”</p><p>Thor laughed and didn’t go faster. Loki adjusted his mirror so he could see the squirming ball of people in the bed of the truck. Sif and Darcy of course, and Fandral and Hogun. And Jane. Jane and Darcy weren’t on the usual roster of people that Thor (and by extension Loki) hung out with, but Jane was TAing Thor’s summer class despite being a grade behind him and he’d gotten friendly enough with her to invite her today. Loki could imagine the scene that led up to it. Thor bent over his notebook in Miss Carter’s room, Jane tucking her hair behind her hair, leaning in to check his work, Thor’s easy smile, his “Hey, we’re going to the creek on Sunday, want to come?” He was friendly like that. </p><p>Loki hated it.</p><p>He didn’t hate that Thor was friendly in general. It was Jane in particular that was rubbing Loki the wrong way for some reason. She was tiny and cute and her hair was perfect and she was brilliant (Loki was sure that if they’d been in the same year she would have beaten him for valedictorian status easily) and she kept looking at Thor like… like… like he was a meal, or she wanted to be <em>his</em> meal. And Loki didn’t know why it bothered him. But it made his chest feel heavy. Like someone was sitting on him. Like the other day when Thor had wrestled him down and gotten him pinned. Like that awful drawn out moment where a demented part of Loki’s brain had said, “What if he kissed you?”</p><p>The creek flashed into view through the trees, sunlight intermittently reflecting off the moving surface of the water. Thor pulled the truck over into a spot that had been worn down to dirt by years of parking in the same place. They all piled out, leaving their towels and bags and cooler behind, and Fandral and Hogun and Thor chased each other, whooping, to throw themselves into the blessed relief of the creek. Loki kept himself to a slightly more stately pace.</p><p>“Get a move on, Foster,” Darcy said. Jane had already taken her shorts off by the back of the truck, revealing the bottom of a one-piece swimsuit, and was struggling out of her shirt. Darcy pinched her on one semi-exposed buttcheek. It made Jane yelp and made Loki’s estimation of Darcy go up at least fifty percent.</p><p>The water was shockingly cold when Loki waded into it, feeling around gingerly with his bare feet in the worn, smooth stones of the creekbed. He could only make himself inch in by increments, his ankles, his calves, his thighs; when the water brushed his balls they retracted so violently that he almost squeaked. </p><p>He was considering just going back to the bank and sitting on his towel when suddenly he was completely underwater. </p><p>For a moment he was terrified, scrabbling to get his feet under him, convinced the ground had given out beneath him. But when he rose, sputtering, Thor was laughing from where he’d snuck behind and pushed Loki in.</p><p>Loki howled wordlessly and tackled his brother into the water.</p><p>They wrestled until they were both laughing. Sif and Fandral hooted encouragement in the background. Loki managed to hold Thor’s head underwater for a count of ten, and he decided to disengage on a high note. He backed away, raking his hair out of his eyes and smirking as Thor scrabbled to the surface. Thor raked his own hair out of his eyes and the look that he shot Loki went through him like a spear to the chest; it was hot, <em>predatory</em>, and for a second Loki thought Thor was going to tackle him and...and...</p><p>“WATCH OUT BELOW!” Hogun yelled. He’d climbed up the rocks on the opposite bank and grabbed the rope they’d tied to the strongest branch overhanging the water, and he was swinging out over the deep part of the swimming hole. Loki nearly went under again with the force of the splash as Hogun’s body hit the water.</p><p>Luckily, it broke the spell of whatever that weird moment had been. </p><p>Sif had gotten drenched by Hogun’s cannonball. “Get him!” she yelled.</p><p>Loki and Thor looked at each other, eyebrows raised, and wordlessly launched themselves at Hogun as one.</p><p>For a little bit, Loki forgot to be anxious.</p><p>The general horsing around turned into an all-out water war. Even Jane and Darcy joined in. Factions formed and disbanded instantly. Sif and Thor vs Hogun and Fandral, Loki and Darcy vs Jane—only for Darcy to turn to Jane’s side mid-dunking, both of them rounding on Loki, who was only saved by Thor wading into the fray (Fandral hanging onto his back like a barnacle). Loki’s ribs hurt from laughing by the time they were interrupted by the arrival of another truck. It pulled in next to Thor’s and honked in greeting, and seven voices hollered back. </p><p>Volstagg climbed out of the cab, grinning. His girlfriend Hilde jumped down from the other side. Volstagg had been two years ahead of them in school, and when he graduated he’d taken over most of his dad’s nursery business (which his dad had named after Volstagg when he was born). He still hung out with them as much as he could. Today he hauled a portable grill out of his trunk, and a cooler full of hot dogs and watermelon and beer.</p><p>“Our savior!” Fandral announced dramatically.</p><p>They ate spread out among the two truck beds, no one wanting to eat sitting in the mud and rocks. Thor was driving and refused to touch any of the beer, but Loki had two. He was ready to throw hands if Jane or Darcy said a single word about Thor being a prude or whatever, but they didn’t. Loki somehow ended up jammed against Thor’s left side, which might have been enough to cause a mini crisis, only Jane was jammed up against Thor’s right; Loki was too preoccupied trying to one-up everything that Jane said to get too far into his own head.</p><p>For some reason he felt disappointed when Thor hopped up after inhaling two hot dogs and announced he was going back in the water.</p><p>“Come on,” Thor said, holding his hand out to help Loki up.</p><p>“I think I’ll stay here,” Loki said. He was hot now that the chill of the creek had worn off and his head was swimmy with beer and somehow taking Thor’s hand seemed like it would mean something. Anxiety crept back into his stomach.</p><p>“You alright?” Thor said. Concerned. Loki’s anxiety wound tighter.</p><p>“I just want to digest.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Loki watched everyone else filter back to the creek and wondered why he kind of wanted to cry.</p><p>*</p><p>Jane kept tugging her bathing suit down over her butt. It was new. On Friday after Thor had invited her to the creek she’d gone home and tried on her old suit, which had all these silly ruffles on it that made her look like a little kid, so she’d dragged Darcy out shopping. Darcy had convinced her that the high cut on this new suit was sexy and Thor would like it, but Jane couldn’t help but feel like her ass was just out flapping around in the breeze and not sexy at all.</p><p>It didn’t help that Thor hadn’t looked at her even once as far as she could tell.</p><p>Well, of course he had looked in her direction, but he hadn’t <em>looked</em> at her. Not even when she let the bottom of her suit ride up and didn’t tug it down. Or when she tried to be funny. Or even when Darcy had practically shoved her onto his lap while they were eating.</p><p>It was just impossible to get his full attention. The only person who could was… Well, it was Loki. His weird, rabbity, kind of off-putting brother.</p><p>She didn’t really get Loki. He’d never been directly unpleasant to her, but he was just… off?  The guy hadn't even taken off his shirt to go swimming. He didn’t have any friends of his own, just Thor’s by proxy. And even when he was here hanging out with everyone he still mostly only talked to Thor. Or about Thor.</p><p>And Thor…</p><p>Well, and Jane hated to even admit this to herself, she would love for Thor to look at her for two minutes the way that he looked at his brother. Wasn’t that messed up? When he looked at Loki it was like he was the most important thing in the world at that moment. She’d gotten flashes of that look once or twice when she was helping Thor with his schoolwork and it had been enough to make her melt from the inside out. Imagine getting it <em>all the time</em>.</p><p>“Come on, Foster!” Darcy said. “Or are you too chicken to play chicken?”</p><p>They were in chest-deep water and Darcy was perched on Fandral’s shoulders, her legs clamped around his neck. She kept grabbing onto his hair for balance while he batted at her. Jane stifled a laugh.</p><p>“Hold my glasses!” Darcy yelled to no one in particular.</p><p>“You up for it?” Thor said to Jane, grinning.</p><p>God, he was handsome. Jane kind of wanted to die at the thought of sitting on his shoulders with her legs around him, his face so close to...certain areas… Thor was <em>looking at her</em> and she suddenly wanted to be wearing seven layers of clothing. </p><p>“Okay,” Jane said breathlessly.</p><p>*</p><p>Loki worked the point of a stick into the hard-packed mud of the creek bank and watched with a pit in his stomach as Thor, Fandral, Darcy, and Jane played chicken. The girls were on the boys’ shoulders and they were all splashing and laughing. Loki wanted to be part of it so badly it made him sick. So why had he ostracized himself from it? He wanted to go shove Jane into the water himself until she cried and went home and he didn’t know why he cared so much about her and it was eating him alive.</p><p>He levered the stick back and forth into the mud, making the hole deeper and wider, his mind running in tipsy circles. Thor was splashing a stone’s throw away from him, and Thor was sitting on Loki’s chest in their bedroom. <em>What if he kissed you?</em> Jane was on Thor’s shoulders, and Thor was pushed all up against Loki on Frey’s couch, in Volstagg’s truck. <em>What if he kissed you?</em> Thor was throwing his head back, laughing, and he was the most beautiful thing that Loki had ever seen, and Loki wanted to crawl down into the little muddy hole he was digging and live there. <em>What if he kissed you?</em></p><p>What if Loki wanted him to?</p><p>Loki was used to fleeting, intrusive thoughts. What if I handed this test in blank, what if I got in the car and started driving down the highway and didn’t stop, what if I shoved the person talking to me as hard as I could?</p><p>This thought wasn’t like that. It didn’t flash away. It lodged in him like an axe stuck in a tree.</p><p>
  <em>What if you <strong>wanted</strong> him to kiss you?</em>
</p><p>“Oh god,” Loki whispered to himself. His heart hammered, and he flushed cold and sweaty at the same time. He looked up at Thor, halfway across the creek and a million miles away. The only living person he loved. His brother. He thought he might throw up.</p><p>Yes. The answer was yes. He wanted Thor to kiss him.</p><p>Thor noticed Loki looking at him and smiled and waved and Loki’s insides liquified.</p><p><em>You’re in love with your goddamn <strong>brother</strong></em>, Loki thought, and rubbed at his face as hot tears stung his eyes.</p><p>He didn’t even notice Darcy wading over until she plopped herself down next to him.</p><p>“Hey, dude, you alright?”</p><p>Loki couldn’t tear his eyes away from Thor. He was leaning down so Jane could say something in his ear, unaware that Loki’s world had just ended. Looking at him was like looking at the sun, too bright and too painful. Loki was on fire and he didn’t know how to put himself out.</p><p>If he opened his mouth he was going to laugh or cry or both. Instead, he stood up and walked away wordlessly.</p><p>“Freak,” he heard Darcy mutter.</p><p>Privately, he agreed with her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/thunderingraven">https://twitter.com/thunderingraven</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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